


Busy

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alright, come close<br/>Let me show you everything I know<br/>The jungle slang</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busy

Perceptor had been working himself into near unconsciousness. Again.

Drift leaned against the door frame, watching Perceptor hunch over the desk in their shard habsuite, and he frowned.

“Percy.”

No answer.

“Percy.”

Nothing again, nothing aside from the hum of the console and the soft beeps and trills of datapads running too hard too long.

“Per. Cep. Tor.”

“Hm?”

“It’s been seven hours straight of sitting on your aft, at least move a bit.”

“Can’t move, too busy.”

“Percy, don’t make me pull rank.”

“Pull rank and I’ll pull a pistol; you know I have four on me.”, was the reply, casual as a remark on the weather, “It will take an act of Primus to distract me; I’m almost finished, just another few hours.”

Drift sighed, stepping in and letting the door shut behind him. Perceptor stoically ignored him, and Drift slid beside him, resting a hand on the scientist’s hypertense shoulder.

“Percy, you NEED to relax.”

“To quote Hamlet, act three, scene three and line eighty-seven: No.”

Drift huffed through his vents as Perceptor rubbed his good optic, leaning back in his chair with datapad in hand and mouthing along as he read. Drift narrowed his own optics, before a sly grin slid over his expression.

Perceptor swore loudly when the chair was turned, legs splaying and his body sinking down with a soft pop of his backstrut as it curved to suit his new position. He looked away from the datapad to glare at Drift.

“And the point of this?”

“Keep workin’ Perce.”, purred Drift, “If you can.”

“Your libido isn’t distracting in the least, Drift, I am very busy and would appreciate if you-”

Drift rolled his optics moving down to rest on his knees between the scientist’s spread legs. He vaguely noted Perceptor beginning to stammer as he rambled on about duty and resonsibilities; vocalizer skipping when Drift nuzzled the scientist’s abdomen.

“Drift WHAT are you doing?!”

“Helping you relax.”

Perceptor sputtered as a kiss was pressed to his hip. His free hand gripped the arm of his chair and he invented sharply as Drift moved lower and lower; dotting warm kisses to thighs made firm from eons of clambering into outrageous perches; when lipplates pressed to Perceptor’s panel, he jolted in his seat to sit up straight.

Drift growled in his chest, hands moving to hook behind Perceptor’s knees and tug the scientist back into his curved position.

“D-Drift what are you-”

The ex-Con’s optics looked up to the stammering sniper, wicked and bright as he dragged his glossa over the already heating panel. Perceptor swallowed hard, gasping at another kiss to too-warm plating and already beginning to squirm.

Click.

Drift chuckled as the panel snapped open, showing the scientist’s slick valve, and the swordsmech licked his lips.

“D-Drift I-I have- I….”

Drift ignored the half-hearted protests as Perceptor’s frame shivered.

Perceptor shuddered at another kiss to his abdomen, lifting a leg to hook it over the other arm of the chair and open himself happily to the now-purring mech between his thighs.

He looked down helplessly, whining when Drift flicked an already glinting node with the tip of a glossa. Hips bucked, and Drift moved to nip at silvery thighs as Perceptor’s helm dropped back and he groaned weakly.

Clunk went the datapad, dropped to the side to bounce on the floor like discarded inhibitions and Drift leaned in, glossa slipping between slick valve lips to tease the valvering.

Perceptor arched his back with a gasp, and Drift pulled his glossa back just to hear the pitiful whined curse from his lover. Teasing laps to make Perceptor’s hips buck and roll and the purring sound grew louder. A kiss to the sniper’s hip again and Drift once again licked his lips.

“Percy, _r e l a x._ ”

And then Drift put his lips to the bright outer node and sucked, hard.

Perceptor wailed, backstrut crackling as his back arched away from the chair. His hips bucked against Drift as the ex-Con’s wicked glossa dipped into the eager valve again, the lewdest and sloppiest sounds drifting to Perceptor’s audials. He squirmed, feeling Drift grab hips more accustomed to holsters than holding to keep the writhing scientist still as he tried to ride the glossa lighting his sensornet up like the fourth of July.

Drift ignored servos gripping his helm and allowed Perceptor to direct him, growling against the valve he was currently worshipping. Finial’s twitched when Perceptor’s vocalizer glitched, spitting a second of static in surprise.

Drift leaned back enough to lick his lips again before once more suckling at the glimmering anterior node-

And purring.

Perceptor thrashed, whimpering Drift’s name and gasping hoarsely as his fans kicked onto a higher setting. Drift lapped up the lubricants leaking from Perceptor as the scientist wailed again, legs shivering before they went strutless.

Helpless to sensation, Perceptor choked on a cry as overload rocked his frame like an earthquake, as Drift’s glossa and pleased purrs overtook his sensornet and drew out the climax almost impossibly long.

Drift hummed to himself, content, as he pulled away once more and licked sticky lips before glancing up at Perceptor. The scientist’s optics flickered white and blue, and he pulled at Drift to coax him up for a kiss.

Drift acquiesced, rising from his (admittedly slightly sore) knees to press his lips to Perceptor’s and drink down the soft moan from the scientist. Perceptor shivered, still draped in his chair with twitching thighs, and the kiss broke for him to pant open-mouthed and for Drift to give a fanged grin.

“I said relax, Percy.”, crooned the ex-Con, right hand smoothing down to cup the still-slick valve. A servo pressed in, making Perceptor’s optics flicker and his hips tilt in a silent plea.

Drift narrowed his own optics, listening to the soft breathy sounds Perceptor made as that digit slid in and out in a sharp rhythm; as Perceptor gripped Drift’s upper arm and groaned like a hungry beast.

A second servo pushed in with the first, and the digits curved to press against the metalmesh walls of Perceptor’s valve and the scientist gave a shaky moan.

“Berth?”, cooed Drift.

_“Please.”_


End file.
